Masquerade

Four.

Aniyah.

The name hung in the air around them and she wished she could take it back, unsay it. Thomas Shelby nodded as though he had won a victory and she wanted to throw up. Fear wracked her insides. Would he send her back to her family? He had said so himself- they would pay a great deal of money to have her back. She felt as though the room was out of oxygen, her lungs seemed to cease working and she was suddenly gasping, desperate to bring some sort of air into her body. Nobody moved around her. They all stared as she flailed about helplessly.

"Aniyah," Tommy repeated and she rooted her attention on him, trying her best to calm down the rapid beats of her heart. She was panicked and afraid in a way she never had been before. She could not even call upon her temper, it was too far within her, encapsulated by her fear. He took another drag of his cigarette and tapped the ash off into a nearby glass tray. She watched his movements carefully, afraid at any moment his hands would reach out and restrain her.

Дышать, she spoke to herself. Just breathe. She slowed the rhythm of her lungs and tried her best to control her shaking and after a few moments she had slowed down enough to focus on the task at hand. Still nobody provided her any comforting words.

"Your family is very rich." He spoke after a minute.

"Yes," She agreed. They were very rich. Although their wealth had diminished since they left their homeland they were far from poor. Her mother made it a point to let everyone know how influential their bank could be. Their home was full of gems and art, their clothes the finest money could buy. They wanted for nothing, and they were so wealthy they paid for nothing either. "They are very rich."

"And yet here you are, living in a run down house with an elderly landlady. Tell me, Aniyah, are you running from something?" She bit down on her lips, unable to answer. She would admit nothing. It did not matter, he already knew. He was only dancing his words around her as a way of disarming her, and it was working flawlessly. He was just as bad as her mother. "See, I think you were running away from your mummy. Maybe she was a bit too mean to you, maybe a bit too cross. Or," He tapped his cigarette once more. "She wanted to marry you off to some old English bloke. Someone rich and powerful."

"You do not know my mother," she whispered to him and he shrugged.

"I do not need to. I know her reputation. And I know her little bird flew the nest. Imagine my surprise when I see her staring at me in my own city."

"Are you planning on sending me back?"

"Now there is a question, isn't there? The way I see it I can send you back, collect the money. Or, you work for me and tell me everything you know about the way your mother operates."

She was confused and she pursed her lips together as she tried her best to understand his meaning. Her mother operated within fear to get a higher wealth and standing so that they could return to Russia and take a place at court once more. That was all she had ever known, but what that information meant for Thomas Shelby, she did not know.

"I do not understand," She finally admitted. Annoyance waved across his face and he leaned in, his fingers wrapping themselves upon the glass of whiskey in front of him. He was a predator and she was prey, and she knew it.

"I think you do understand, Aniyah. Nobody gets raised by one of the largest crime families in all of England and does not know." Crime families? What would her mother need of a crime family if her desire was to be home in Russia? Pieces began to fall into place for a moment. English was the only language allowed in her home, her mother was cold and violent, the people in and out all hours- how could she be so blind? Her mother knew she longed for Russia, so she used Russia to keep her in the dark. She had been a fool.